Page 24 of Washed Up
“Please.”
“For you?”
“For me,” I agree. I tiptoe and press a kiss to his lips, and magic happens. The clouds break, and he stares at me in wonder and then… then, there’s a smile. A smile that rises from within. A smile like the sun on fresh snow. It dazzles. It mesmerises. I need to capture that smile on film. Suddenly, I’m not looking at a grumpy, downtrodden man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’m gazing at an elven prince with the heavens in his eyes, and a melody bleeding from his fingertips.
I have enough presence of mind to take a goddamned picture of him.
“You honestly liked that last track, and you want to hear more?”
How is he so blind to his genius?
“I’m going to cry if you don’t give me more. I loved it.”
“Not too soppy, or … soulless.”
“You know it’s not any of those things.” I’m sure he does, even if he’s doubting himself. Deep down, he knows this is good. Has to. “It was beautiful, Wynter. And I bet it’s not even the best track on the album.”
He nibbles his lower lip, eyes downcast.
“No,” he admits after a moment, lips betraying him, and revealing that inner deep belief I was sure was present somewhere. He coughs to clear his throat. “That is… Personally, I prefer—”
From the corner of my eye, I see Reid’s grip tighten around the neck of his guitar.
“—one of the others.”
“Play it, please.” I’m willing to get on my knees and beg.
He takes his sweet time making a decision.
“Fucking, yeah!” Reid gasps.
Thus, I know it’s going to happen, ahead of Wynter actually giving a nod. Reid can read this man in ways I can’t yet.
“We’re doing this?” Max asks.
Wynter gives another nod.
“Now we’re talking.” All the tension in Reid’s body has released, and he’s a shambles, vibrating like he’s plugged into the amp and not his guitar.
“I need another one of these first, though. Just to make it a fair trade. Deal, Iris?”
He reels me in and slays me with a kiss that is so much more than the one I gave him. When our mouths break apart, he holds me for a long, meaningful moment, before returning his attention to the instrument suspended from the strap around his shoulders. “Forever in Reverse. For you, Iris. Or, as it was originally titled—. Fuck it! How itistitled,Weep.
This time, I listen from the same room, right up close and personal, barely an arm span away from the mic he’s singing into. It makes it intimate, and oh, so very visceral. Something has shifted in Wynter. I can hear it in his voice. There’s a confidence to his delivery that I realise was absent before. The lack of hesitance. The sincerity that makes the track hit like a gut punch. Weeping is what I’m doing by the end. It’s so beautiful, it hurts. I have goosebumps all across my body.
I take pictures. Numerous pictures, some of which are likely blurred, since I can’t see properly due to my tears. The song they do after is more up tempo and optimistic. It’s bound to become a fan favourite, but I’m still so in love withWeepthat it can’t compare. That doesn’t stop me saying my piece. “You guys… You don’t need to write anything else; you’ve already got what you need.”
Max smiles quietly to himself. Miraculously, Reid doesn’t crow, “I told you so.” There’s still a rebellious turn to Wynter’slips, like he’s not quite ready to believe what is blatantly apparent to everyone else.
“Don’t you trust my opinion?
“Not sure,” he admits. “I don’t exactly know you, Iris. You might have fuck awful taste. We might be the anomaly in your collection.”
Way to dampen the high I was feeling.
“Do we need to exchange playlists?” If I still had my phone, I’d blare all my favourites at him for the next twenty-four hours just to prove my point, but I don’t, and I’m not sure rattling off song titles is going to convince him of anything.
He doesn’t want to be convinced.
